Third Quarter Quell
by ClaireEve13
Summary: Katniss finds out she's going back into the arena and ends up at Haymitch's house. They share white liquor and Katniss asks Haymitch for one last free request.


**This is my spin on the day Katniss finds out she'll be headed for the arena again. The build-up is not like it is in the book so please don't get upset because of it. This is fanfiction, remember that. I really hope you enjoy it anyway and I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

 **Btw, Katniss is not a virgin in this. Let's just assume she's had sex with Peeta before or Gale. Whoever you ship more. This is about Hayniss but for the scene to work as I intended, Katniss needed to not be a virgin.**

 **I own nothing but the slightly edited plot.**

… **...**

Third Quarter Quell

 _I am going back into the arena._

That's the last thought that runs through my mind as I run out of the door, across the Victor's Village to the woods. My haven, my safe place to go when trouble lurks in the district, ironic when you consider why the fence was supposedly put up. I stop short, just a metre away when I hear the buzz and remember that I'm trapped. Trapped to face my fate or die trying to escape but I can't stop, I can't think about what's to come so I turn on my heel and run again. I'm not sure where I am headed until I feel a dull ache in my hands find myself in a cellar. _Who's?_ I wonder vaguely but I decide I just don't care. Let them find me. Let them take me to the Peacekeepers. Let that scum whip me and beat me. I can barely feel anything right now.

I drop to my hands and knees and collapse onto my side. I can't escape so I let the hysteria from the truth out and I sob loudly into the dark cellar, fat tears fall from my eyes and my vision blurs. I feel a scream rising in my throat and stuff my shirt into my mouth just in time to muffle the sound. Eventually I wear my voice out and the scream fades, still I lay there, curled up and let all my thoughts tumble out, overlapping each other. My heart pounds in my chest with each passing thought, with each passing nightmare. I feel another scream, try to let it out but my voice has given up. I lick my lips, try to swallow and then Peeta's face in right in front of me, in my mind. He's telling me I owe him for everything he has done for me and for my pretence of being in love with him and for all the times I didn't tell him important things and I don't argue because he is right. And I decide, right then, that this time, this game, I save Peeta and Haymitch will help me. Haymitch.

Haymitch will have to agree with me since he chose to save me last time by sending me all those gifts and sending Peeta nothing.

Thinking of this epic conclusion picks me up from the floor with new-found confidence, albeit not a lot. I search around me looking for a way out while Haymitch's drunken, smiling face sticks to the forefront of my mind and I am not entirely sure why. I walk straight into a kitchen and find the broken glass on the kitchen door. I hurry out of the house knowing and not knowing where I was headed until I see Haymitch sitting at his kitchen table with a half-emptied bottle of white liquor in one hand and a knife in the other. He looks up as I walk in and tries to smile. My heart does a little flip but I ignore it. It's not affection, I tell myself.

"Ah, there she is." Haymitch says brightly. "Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? And now you're here to ask me…what?" his eyebrows furrow for a moment considering my next request. To be honest, I don't know what I could ask him for. I do know that if either Peeta's or Haymitch's names are drawn the other would volunteer. Peeta would volunteer simply to be with me, to protect me and to keep up the act of being in love. Haymitch would volunteer because he knows that's what I would ask to save Peeta if the words would form on my tongue. Instead, there's nothing because I don't want to talk about the games. I don't want to talk about my upcoming death. Or possibly Peeta's or possibly Haymitch's.

"I came for a drink." I say.

Haymitch laughs, loud and boisterous and slams the bottle in front of me on the table. I take the seat opposite him, grab the bottle and chug two gulps before I start choking. After a minute or two I compose myself but my nose and eyes are watering. The liquor feels like fire and I like it.

"Maybe it should be you." I say anyway, taking a much smaller sip of the bottle. "You hate life, anyway."

"Very true." says Haymitch. "And since last time I tried to keep _you_ alive…seems like I'm obligated to save the boy this time." For a brief moment it feels like he has read my mind but then I remember we think alike anyway.

"Sounds about right." I say, glancing around the room. Hazelle really has done a good job on the place.

"You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know." Haymitch says.

"No question." I say. "He's the superior one in this trio. So what are you going to do?"

Haymitch shakes his head. "I don't know. Go back in with you, if I can. But if my name is drawn Peeta will volunteer to take my place." A sadness washes over his face for a moment but then I blink and it's gone. Is he sad for Peeta?

"It'd be worse for you in the arena, wouldn't it? Knowing all the others?" I ask, taking another tiny sip. It burns my lips slightly but feels even hotter sliding down my tongue.

"Oh, I think we can count on it being unbearable wherever I am." he nods at the bottle and reaches over. "Can I have that back now?"

"No." I say, hugging the bottle to my chest. My vision blurs as I stare at Haymitch and I can't help wondering if he was handsome when we were my age. He has already opened another bottle and has taken two or three big gulps before he notices. He frowns at me with the bottle held between the table and his lips. The liquor glistens on his mouth before I force myself to look up. His face swims slightly but for the most part I can tell he is amused.

"You all right, sweetheart?" my hearts flutters at the nickname but I try to tell myself it's the liquor doing funny things to me but I know it isn't. It's just his effect on me and maybe it did have to take alcohol to see that.

We were so much alike in so many ways that I had not noticed the attraction. Sure, it's obvious on the outside with his wavy blond hair, grey eyes, strong, stubbly jaw. But he was intelligent and knew how the games worked and even rebelled again the Gamemakers in his games just like I did. Maybe it was these similarities alone that made me leap into his arms after the first time I was in the games.

I already knew all of this, of course, but it comes crashing back with invigorating clarity in the second it take for me to answer his question.

"Never better." I say, I smile and just for good measure I take a gulp of the white liquid and stand, wobbling.

Haymitch stands too, arms outstretched. To catch me, probably, I think but I am fairly stable for the moment as I walk to one of the few photo frames hung around the walls. I'm vaguely aware that Haymitch is close by, unconvinced I won't fall from the alcohol. I am not one hundred percent convinced I won't but it's comforting, anyway, knowing he's there.

The frame I walked up to held a picture of a younger Haymitch, smiling at the camera. The background is blurred and grey but it doesn't take a lot to guess that this was probably taken in front of the Justice Building shortly after his victory.

"Hazelle insisted." Haymitch's voice is right behind me and I jump, stumble but am caught by Haymitch's deft hands. Once I am steady he goes to remove his hands but I catch them in my own, keeping them on my waist. "Katniss." he says softly, his voice to close to my ear.

"Haymitch." I say back but not in my usual brash tone. Instead it is softer and quieter but, to me, sounds full of meaning because, to me, it is. Haymitch seems to sense this and tries to tug his hands away. I spin and I'm almost pressed against his body with only an inch or so to spare and he's looking at me differently now. His face, to the outside world, looks void of emotion but I notice the change. His eyes bore into mine and we stand stock still.

"Katniss." he says again. "What do you think you're doing?" He makes little effort now to remove his hands even though mine are on his chest. I slide them up slowly, until they are around his neck. This seems to rouse something in him and he pulls away faster than I can pull him back.

"No." is all he says, his voice no longer soft but still slurred.

I walk over to where he stands by the table, his back to me. "Haymitch, what's wrong?" I ask sweetly, placing a gentle hand on his back. He twitches but doesn't try to move away. Instead he turns on the spot until my hand is on his chest again. He's further away from me now.

"You know what's wrong. _This_ is wrong. You want Peeta, remember? And I'm your mentor!" he moves away this time, grabbing his bottle and moving to another room. He sits down on a battered brown sofa and takes another gulp from his bottle when I remember I left mine on the kitchen table.

"So? What's one night when I'm surly going to die in a few days anyway." I say and sit down on the sofa, leaving enough space so that we don't touch. I stare at the opposite wall.

"Why?" he asks softly and I can feel the sofa shift and I know he is looking at me.

"We're a lot alike." I say, without moving. "More alike than me and Peeta. Yes, I'm _supposed_ to want Peeta but I don't know if I do or if it even matters now." I turn to look at Haymitch, moving closer as I do. His knee touches my leg and my face is inches away from Haymitch. "I know I want you though. Even for just one night. One night just so I can forget about what's to come until I am forced to remember my numbered days. That's all I'm asking."

At this Haymitch grins and for a moment I'm nervous and excited and worried until he says, "so _that's_ what you came here for?"

I guess that he is joking but even so I'm not sure until he leans forward and his lips are on mine. My body feels with heat that has little to do with the liquor and I move to sit in his lap. He hugs me close, kissing me sloppily but like this is the last ever night for him to be free too and, hell, maybe it is. Maybe Haymitch does end up in that arena with me. I think that things would become awkward then but I remember we'd the more pressing matter of trying to stay alive.

Without much warning a lump forms underneath me and I know straight away what it is so I kiss Haymitch harder, pulling his head closer to mine, our lips bruising from the force of it yet neither complain. Haymitch's hand is behind my head too and his other is around my waist, already snaking it's way under my shirt. I let out a small gasp before pulling him back on the sofa with him on top of me. Haymitch lets out a groan as his body finds a place between my legs. My hips thrust upward instinctively, my hormones taking over.

Suddenly he stops and pulls back, breathing hard to look at my face. My vision is still blurred, my breathing is rapid and I stare back anyway.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" He asks, a slight crease forms between his brows.

"I'm positive." I say, pulling Haymitch back to me to kiss him. He responds immediately and his hand cups my breast through my bra and shirt and I gasp again, feeling the wonderful sensation wash over me. I try to unbutton his shirt and kiss him at the same time but I need the space so I stop kissing him finally strip him of his shirt. Long and thick white scars line his abdomen and I can't help but trace my fingers over them. Haymitch is breathing heavily and I look into his eyes just once before he sits back to pull off my jeans. Before they even hit the floor Haymitch is already unzipping his own but he doesn't take them off completely. His erection is free and I can't help but look, before he finds that place between my legs.

He kisses me again with wet and urgent lips while his erection finds a home at my entrance. He pulls his face back to look at me as he slides himself inside me. My mouth opens in silent shock as he fills me up and the feeling is wonderful. It's wonderful and free and I revel for a moment in the fact that no one has instructed we do this but this is our own choice to make. Just us. Right now. And I kiss him more urgently as he thrusts his hips into me again and again. We groan softly occasionally into our kisses and it is the most free I've felt in a long while.

All too soon Haymitch groans loudly as he finishes inside me. He mumbles something unintelligible, leans on me for a moment and then lifts his weight off me. He stops for a moment to look down on me with a mixture of lust, sorrow and something else in his eyes. He leans down to kiss me and it's passionate and urgent and then he's gone, leaving me cold. He pulls out and zips up, not caring about the mess.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." he says, passing my clothes to me. For a moment I think he is apologising for having sex with me and I frown. "About the games. About everything. It isn't fair." My face relaxes as he leaves the room but I know he's giving me some privacy to clean up and get dressed.

 _Arena, here I come._


End file.
